The Devil's Bride
by Rahja
Summary: Harlot Queen. King's Witch. Devil's Bride. Anne Boleyn has been called many things in her life, but not once paid attention to them. She better had... for Lucifer Morningstar, Lord of Hell, is about to come and see for himself the woman who's supposed to be his wife... Crossover with "The Tudors"
1. Chapter 1

**Teaser: Harlot Queen. King's Witch. Devil's Bride. Anne Boleyn has been called many things in her life, but not once paid attention to them. She better had... for Lucifer Morningstar, Lord of Hell, is about to come and see for himself the woman who's supposed to be his wife...**

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 **The Devil's Bride 1 – Make her mine**

"Well?"

Her voice sounded demanding, almost haughty, even though she knew it was not within her rights to question him. He was her lord and master, after all… but then again, spending hundreds and thousands of years in hell together does create a certain familiarity.

"I rather like it. Well, the house might be a tad beneath my usual level of accommodation, but I'm sure I'll find plenty of other things to distract myself with," Lucifer, Lord of Hell, God's fallen son, answered. "At least the title has a suitable ring to it. Marquess of Exeter, Earl of Devon…"

"Henry," his favourite demon retorted. "Did you have to go for such a common name?"

"Well, I don't guess people would've taken kindly to my real name, seeing how obsessed they are with religion right now. You would think they'd more important business on their hands than fuzzing over how exactly they are to kiss dear old dad's ass… but apparently, no," Lucifer retorted with his usual smug grin. "Yet and still, what other name should I have given this poor creature that I happened to send away from this world to the next? It was the only decent option to take Henry Courtenay's place, if I was to have any comfort at all. Did you expect me to opt for a peasant's life, Maze?"

The demoness rolled her eyes. "I still don't know what we're supposed to do here, in the first place. Why England, this puny little island?"

"Now, now, Maze, don't be mean. We are here for my pleasure, did I not inform you? We are here because she is here."

"She?" Maze frowned.

Lucifer's eyes darkened, if it was even possible. The smile on his face became even more smug than before.

"Anne Boleyn, Marquess of Pembroke. The harlot queen. The king's witch. Though, as you will understand, the moniker which tempts me most is 'devil's bride'. Now, while under most circumstances, you would agree with me that it is anything but presumptuous to assume that any woman was worthy of being my bride… well, what they say about this Lady Anne has got me intrigued."

"You are the lord of hell, Lucifer. I do not see what a mortal woman, any mortal woman, could offer you."

"She seduced a king," he returned.

"So have others," Maze replied dryly. "We shouldn't be here. It sure won't be long before Amenadiel or others show up, to put you back. Where you belong. In hell."

Lucifer grinned. "Oh, but my dear, we're going to the court of Henry VIII. We ARE going to hell."

"So the King has no time to receive you, his first cousin, because he is… what? Going to church?" Maze didn't seem happy at all. Not happy with having to wear the dresses that had been forced on her. Not happy being outside hell at all. And certainly not happy trailing behind Lucifer at court pretending she was his sweet, docile mistress. She was a torturer, a fighter, a demon, for God's sake!

"He is a pious man after all, apparently. Or wishes to appear as such. I'm sure dad doesn't give a fig about it, but of course the King doesn't know. Do you think he'd listen if I told him?"

Maze downed her cup of ale. "He'd rather have you beheaded or burned at the stake."

"I'd love to see him try. Give him a little demonstration of immortality, of divinity… what do you think, Maze? A nice little mass conversion? England, fallen to the Devil?"

"I was under the impression you were only trying to make one English person fall for you."

"Who said I would have to make her?" Lucifer looked into the mirror, straightening his clothes. "So far, no lady has been able to resist this lovely offer of pure manly perfection. To be quite frank, neither has any man. Do you think I should try my luck with the King instead?"

Maze rolled her eyes. She found herself doing it more frequently these days. But what else was she to do, when he behaved like a spoilt child?

"Just find the harlot and be done with it."

"What do you think I am preparing for? The King, my dear cousin, has recalled his former wife to court to celebrate Christmas. Only dad knows why he thinks it's good to have her back when his new wife isn't even with child, but perhaps he's even more devilish than me. In any case, she ought to roam these halls knowing that everyone looks at her with contempt. Everyone… but me. Let us see whether the stories are just made up, or whether she is bride material after all."

"Lucifer?" Now, Maze rose to her feet as she watched him prepare to leave the room. "You do not truly mean to marry her, do you? I mean…"

But he was already out the door.

People were actually shooing her, curtseying only as far as protocol demanded, and treating her like one of the king's old whores once she had passed. Anne Boleyn knew better than to allow it to affect her, but in her heart, it still stung. To think that only a year ago, she had walked these halls as their queen – their pregnant queen, carrying the heir Henry had so longed for. And now she was an outcast, who ought to be grateful to have escaped the marriage with her head on her shoulders. Yes, her marriage had been annulled, Elizabeth had been bastardized, but at least they were both still alive. If those nasty rumours about the King accusing her of sleeping with other men, of even committing incest with her own brother, had any truth to them, she could have been done easily.

But she had to be grateful and strong. If not for herself, then for Elizabeth. Her beautiful Elizabeth, who would one day sit the throne, if only she played her cards well now. Yes, the pale wench Henry had made his Queen now might still whelp, but even if she did, her offspring need not necessarily survive. The same held true for Elizabeth's elder half-sister, whose health had never been all too promising to begin with. Of all Henry's children, Elizabeth was the only one who was strong and adamant. One day, he would have to admit just what an incredible asset she was to his reign. He just would…

Words interrupted her thoughts all of a sudden.

"What a lovely day, isn't it, Madam?"

A nobleman was bowing before her, and with an instinctive gesture, she beckoned him to rise. She tried to think of a witty remark with which to hide her surprise that someone would actually start a conversation with her, but once he had risen, the plan went awry. There was no way to hide her surprise at what she saw – not only was he a stranger, but perhaps also the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Devilishly handsome.

For once, Anne Boleyn was left speechless. The man smiled warmly (or was it smug?), and just looking at it sent a shiver along her spine.

"Oh forgive me, Marquess, I believe we have never been formally introduced, though I must admit I have always admired you from afar," he said in his gallant dark voice. "Henry, Marquess of Exeter."

"His Majesty's cousin," she recalled. "I did not know you were interested in court life. His Majesty once told me you had retreated to your estates for the sake of your wife."

"Late wife," he correctly her without hesitation.

"Forgive me, I did not know."

He smiled again. "There is nothing to forgive, my dear Marquess. Surely she is in a different place now, a place where she belongs."

Little did Anne know that his wife had died of a heart-attack after seeing his devil's eyes, and that the place he was referring to was not heaven at all. Gertrude had been a spiteful and horribly uptight woman – just the kind Lucifer had loved down in hell, but certainly not up here. Not as his wife, when he had come to inspect another… assumed bride.

"His Majesty must be glad to have you back, then."

"Oh, I couldn't tell. So far, I have not been allowed into his gracious presence," Lucifer remarked snappishly, causing Anne to suppress a grin. "But I find it hard to begrudge my ill fate, when I am so kindly distracted by beautiful sirens like yourself. You look ravishing, my lady. Though I wonder what our pale Queen will say once she sees you like this."

Anne didn't know whether to feel flattered, angry, or amused. "You ought to be careful, my Lord, for some would consider your words treasonous."

"Then you ought to be careful as well, Lady Anne, for some might consider your dress treasonous," he retorted smugly. "It is a great affront after all to show to each and every single courtier the beauty His Majesty has pushed aside."

He meant every word. Of course he hadn't seen Queen Jane yet, but from what he'd heard, she paled in comparison. A dull blonde, good for breeding and being docile? Perhaps King Henry wanted that, but certainly not Lucifer. No, this shunned ex-queen, this mysterious beauty with raven hair and dark eyes was far more to his liking. He could see why people would call her his wife. Perhaps street gossip was a reliable source for matchmaking, after all?

"Your Lordship is too kind, and I too late. My daughter is awaiting me, I'm afraid."

"Ah, yes, the little royal spawn. Off you go, then, Lady Anne. But if you are asked about our conversation, make sure to tell them I asked the first dance of the night from you, and you agreed."

Anne raised one of her slender eyebrows. "I agreed?" She quipped.

"Oh, but most certainly you did. You chose this dress, telling everyone with eyes to see just what beauty the King has thrown away. Clearly, even if your lips would never betray it, you are out for a sweet little taste of revenge. I would be glad to assist," he said, stepping closer with each sentence. His behaviour was highly inappropriate, and had anyone seen them, they would have been in trouble. But this way, only Anne was in trouble. Her breathing grew heavier. "See you at the dance then, Marquess."

Lucifer couldn't quite decide which he liked best.

The look on the courtiers' faces, perhaps, as they slowly realized that not everyone fled the former queen like… well, like the Devil flees holy water. In fact, the most handsome man of the night, the one every lady (and some men) had been swooning over the entire night, seemed to have eyes only for Anne Boleyn.

Or was it the Queen's face, who had gotten even paler after watching Lucifer and Anne dance a volta, clearly reaching the same conclusion as everyone else – that she would never hold people's attention as Anne did? That she, quite literally, paled in comparison?

Or perhaps it was King Henry's mask of a face, growing sterner with each passing dance. Was he angry that his former wife had the gall to enjoy herself, when he had but recalled her to make her miserable by showing off his new wife? Or was he actually jealous to see someone else enjoy Anne's dancing skills, her smile, the touch of her hips…

No, Lucifer decided, the best was Anne herself. The way her grim expression, fuelled by constant rejection, had turned into pure delight with each step they made. He didn't even have to do much to ensnare her – simply looking her in the eyes was enough. Lucifer found such hunger, such passion in them that he began to wonder whether she had ever been satisfied with King Henry.

"They're all looking at you," Maze whispered to him between two dances.

"I would not have it any other way. I am the Lightbringer, after all. Who else should they look at?"

"Their king, perhaps? Lucifer, you and I both know you cannot be touched by mortal hands, but if you incur the King's wrath, he too will find out. It'll cause a mess of immense proportion. Mortals are not supposed to…

"To catch a glimpse of the divine, yes," he spat back like an angry teenager. "Those are dad's words. But what about mine? And what about her… just look, Maze, and admit that you too find her ravishing."

"I won't admit to anything unless you include me in your plans. I mean, what are you going to do? Take her on the floor, plain for everyone to see?"

Lucifer put down his cup and looked at her as if he wished to say "tut-tut", but managed to suppress the urge to do so. Instead, he simply said: "No. I might have wanted to, but now… now I see what these people are putting her through. What this righteous King is doing to her. And people call me the Devil! No, Maze, a simple rut on the floor will not do for this. In order to gain the satisfaction I crave, I will first make her have hers. No one's to say the Morningstar's not a gentleman in bed."

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Reviews are appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**The Devil's Bride 2 – Conquer her**

Lucifer meticulously studied the face of the man before him. He was a good judge of character most of the times, but rarely did he take the time to study someone in detail. Usually, there was no need. People gave in to his charms soon enough. But if he acted out of turn now, King Henry might not take kindly to it, and while he couldn't care less about the proud man's feelings, he did want to stay in his role as Henry Courtenay for a little longer.

And besides, not angering a self-serving tyrant had been one of his best abilities – once, before he'd been sick and tired of it and rebelled. As a reward, he'd been thrown out of heaven. He didn't want to be thrown out of Henry's court.

"You have changed since we last met," the King finally broke the silence.

"For the better, I hope. I rid myself of that nasty beard, and some pounds as well," Lucifer summed up the differences between himself and the late, real Marquess of Exeter. "Suits me, does it not? And it's also more fashionable with the ladies, what with being a widower now and all."

The King, having not expected such an elaborate answer, seemed to be taken aback.

"Yes, your mistress, right," he then returned. "Quite an exotic beauty."

"Maze? Yes, she's a hellish little minx. But not the most thrilling beauty at court, after all. That… well…" Lucifer grinned, but as he realized the King was following his trail of thought, he stopped. Rubbing into Henry's face that he valued his ex-wife far above the current one probably wasn't the best of choices.

"I have noticed that you should take an interest in the ladies of court," the King quipped. "Especially the Marquess of Pembroke."

"I would, wouldn't I? She is an asset to Your Majesty's court," he replied in happy oblivion, as if the King's accusing tone had been completely lost on him. "You must be rather proud to have a daughter by such a formidable woman. She must be rather witty…"

The King raised an eyebrow. "It is not the Lady Elizabeth that I wish to speak about."

Lucifer's smile, too, diminished. Instead, he leant over the table, darkening his eyes as his voice lowered slowly. "What DO you want then, truly? What is it that you desire most?"

He could see the King gulp and struggle with his devilish powers.

"I…"

"Yes," Lucifer affirmed the King's desire to give in. "What is it you truly desire?"

"I… I want to be remembered by history, as one of the great kings of England," King Henry then blurted out, and even though a frown betrayed the fact that he was probably wondering why he had admitted it, he went on. "Without a son, how am I to leave a legacy? I need a son."

Lucifer smiled. "Of course you do. And you've gotten yourself such a nice little queen for the matter. I am sure she will do just fine, given time."

"I am beginning to think she is no different from other women," the King admitted. "She kept nagging me about the Marquess, and my daughter Mary, and all of it… and now that I've invited Anne to show her that she is no longer part of my life, it still won't do! She's still unhappy. How am I to beget a son from a wife who clearly does not enjoy her marital duties?"

"Impossible," Lucifer agreed half-heartedly. In truth, he couldn't care less for the King's petty problems, but he accepted the fact that he had to play along. He had done so a thousand times with his father, what harm was there in another few times? "Would Her Majesty be more assured if she saw that the Marquess was no longer a threat?"

The King frowned. "How so?"

"Well, why, I could seduce her for you," Lucifer offered nonchalantly, sounding as smug and oblivious as ever. "The Marquess, I mean. Get her away from the courting market, and make sure no one believes Your Majesty still harbours any interests towards her. Surely, it would pacify the Queen's fears and facilitate the son-making process. Although, if you feel you need more support, I am also willing to lend a hand with that…"

"That shall not be required," the King interrupted him, trying to appear serious when in fact he had somewhat blushed. "But your other offer, I'll take. Just make sure to adhere to the laws of decency. The Marquess is mother to a royal child, after all."

Lucifer nodded smiling. "Oh, don't fret. I am the very image of decency!"

* * *

He walked the snow-covered gardens with her, which was a little miracle in itself. Maze would not believe her eyes if she saw him now. The Lord of Hell taking a leisurely stroll through a frosty wonderland! He, who hated the cold about just as much as he hated holy water! Strolling! With no purpose other than to amuse the woman walking beside him, a mere mortal!

But Lucifer didn't mind, at least not much. In fact, it felt like the first time in forever that he'd actually had a decent conversation. Most days in hell were filled with torture and revenge, and while he enjoyed both, it didn't feel the same. Yet, speaking to someone with Anne's education and wit…

"Forgive me, Lord Henry, I spoke too much," she said as they stopped at a frozen pond.

Lucifer studied her face, not truly believing his ears. He could feel that she didn't want to apologize, that it wasn't in her bones to be so meek and submissive. Nearly losing her head to her tyrant ex-husband must have done it to her, he concluded.

"Ah, never mind, my Lady. I enjoy a good conversation every now and then, even though I do not look the part. But it is the truth, and I must know, for I never lie. Ask Maze, she could tell."

Anne raised an eyebrow. "Your… mistress?"

"Well yes, technically, as long as court protocol demands it, she is my mistress. But if you must know, we have not been intimate in a long time. We share some passions and a long history, but as of lately, I feel my desires strolling."

"My Lord… is it truly appropriate to speak of such manners? What would the King say?"

"Oh, he wouldn't mind. In fact, he gave me permission to court you."

Anne stopped every motion and just stared at him blankly, as if he had told her that in a few hundred years, men would land on the moon.

"You are jesting," she managed to exhale.

"Oh, on the contrary, Marquess, and while I am, definitely, a very lovable and jovial person, I tend not to jest about such manners. I spoke to the King about it, and he and I both agreed that it would be a lovely idea for me to swoon you. With your permission, of course, although from the way you looked at me while you spoke, I think this should not hinder us for much longer. Should we return inside, then? I would very much fancy changing into something more comfortable. These furs are heavily impractical."

He motioned for her to come, but she still stood there, stiff as a poker. Only her eyes blinked, on and on and on. When he gently tried to push her shoulder, Anne finally snapped out of it and laughed.

"You do not truly expect me to follow you after, after this? And to do what, come to your bed?"

"Not necessarily, no," he admitted. "I would also be content with the floor, preferably with a rug, or maybe a sofa. I am absolutely open to suggestions on your side, my Lady."

Anne shook her head. "This… this is ridiculous. What more does he think he can do to me? That he can sell me off like his great whore?"

She tried to run, but Lucifer was faster, and he gently interrupted her steps. His usually joyful face had turned stern.

"No. Do not be mistaken, my offer has nothing to do with the King. I asked for permission – he didn't ask me."

"You…" He could see her mind working. She seemed to accept his reasoning, but still couldn't bring herself to fully embrace it. "Why would you?"

Now, Lucifer smiled again, daring to come a little closer. His breath danced in little hushed clouds before her face.

"Why, I thought it was obvious! You're a delight, Lady Anne, and any man should be glad to enjoy your embrace, if only for one night. Although, if it be to me, we'd also take at least the morning as well. I tend to be a little voracious at times, forgive me, it's a bad habit."

His playful tone still seemed to take her aback. "You cannot be serious."

"Why not? Is it truly so hard to believe that I would desire you? That I would wish to carry you far away from all prying eyes, to have you for myself? To…" He stepped closer yet again. "To unlace this dress, which must be awfully uncomfortable, and worship every part of your skin? To taste the sweetness you offer, and the sourness alike? To have you, to hold you, to claim you as mine? Do you truly think no man would wish that, Lady Anne?"

Her chest rose in heavy pants. She shook her head. Clearly, she was not immune to his charms, even though she tried hard to resist.

"Well then, there is only one question left… and that is for you alone to answer. Do you want it, too? You need only say a word, and I'll be gone forever… or say another word, and I'd be glad to give you a night you'll never forgive for the rest of your life… and a morning, too."

"I…" Anne stopped. He could see the conflict in her dark eyes, her old playful self battling the wronged, careful woman she had become. If only he could turn back time for her, turn her back into the witty, feisty lady she had been in France…. But then, he didn't have to. Anne went back herself, giving in to the wishes she had suppressed for so long, her hunger for life, her desire to be worshipped. She said no more, and instead rushed forward to kiss him.

"Now that is more like it," Lucifer whispered, and he kissed her back.

* * *

He told her he was the devil right after they sunk into the sheets together. She was still panting heavily, and he smiled as smugly as ever he did, so she didn't believe him. Lucifer took it as a normal reaction to a confrontation with the divine, and decided not to push.

He would, however, try again. And again. He alluded to stories long past, stories which she as a fervent believer would know. Actually, he found himself rather surprised just how much she knew. For a mere mortal, Anne had been well educated. And, well, he enjoyed meeting her at night, and sometimes during the day, and openly courting her in front of others. He couldn't quite decipher the looks King Henry gave them, but apparently, his dullard of a wife was pleased with the situation.

Lovely, Lucifer thought. Everyone's happy now. Wasn't it time to leave, then?

"I do not think I shall stay much longer," he informed Anne after three weeks of breath-taking lovemaking as he rose from their bed, still as naked as the day he'd been born. Well, this body had been born, not him, technically, since he… well.

The raven-haired beauty leered at him from the bed. "Must you leave so early?"

"Early?" Lucifer laughed. "Now, now, don't be greedy, darling, I have been in this human body for far too long now. I came here to undertake a few inquiries, and I believe them to be finished."

"Must you truly continue this awkward charade?" Anne frowned. "Henry, whatever it is you are trying to tell me, you clearly are not the Devil."

Lucifer turned around, an annoyed expression on his face. "Oh, but that is exactly what I am telling you, dear!"

"You are the most charming man I have ever met, trust me, Henry, you couldn't possibly be… oh God." Anne gasped, and then her eyes grew wide in shock. She stared at the sight before her, the supernatural truth she ought to have never beheld.

Lucifer's wings, white and painfully beautiful.

"Oh my God," she whispered again.

"Wrong deity, but apart from that, thank you for accepting my words as truthful," he reprimanded her.

"Oh my God," Anne repeated, and then withdrew, only to tumble and fall from the bed. She cowered behind the mattress, shaking her head. "God, no, this cannot be… it is not… I… I whored myself to the Devil."

He wandered round the bed, still naked, and appeared next to her. "Well, if it is of any consolation to you – the fact that you never received any payment of sorts, other than the enormous pleasure, of course, clearly determines the fact that you have – in fact – not whored yourself."

Anne turned to look at him, shaking her head as if to scold him for his cheekiness, but her eyes still remained fearful.

"You're the Devil," she whispered.

"I told you so from the very beginning, love. You just wouldn't listen. Now would you please stand up and dress yourself? Because quite frankly, I do find it a tad difficult to concentrate when you are so deliciously naked."

Anne did as he asked, even though she still seemed terrified. "You're the Devil."

"Yes, Lightbringer, Beelzebub, Lord of Hell, whatever you prefer," he returned, somewhat annoyed. "Though if you could be so kind, I myself prefer Lucifer. Friends call me that."

"Friends?" She frowned again. "You… why are you here?"

"Well, for you, of course." Now he smiled broadly again.

"Are you taking me to hell?"

"Only if you so wish, my dear. To be honest, I had only come out of curiosity, but I stayed out of interest. You are quite intriguing after all, I can see now how you would have ensnared even a king. They do not call you the Devil's bride for nothing."

Anne stopped the dressing process and turned around. "Is that why you are here? To… marry me?"

"What? Now, don't be ridiculous, I'm the Devil, I do not marry mortals. Silly you! I came to see you, and actually, what I've seen so far has been most pleasurable. Which, judging from your moans, has been a mutual feeling."

"What are you going to do to me, then?"

She finished slipping into her undergarments, and when she turned around again, she found him standing dangerously close.

"Do to you?" He breathed darkly. "You mean other than the delightfully unspeakable things I have done so far? Nothing. Nothing you do not wish, my dear. I came for you, and you get to choose now. You humans and your free will, do you realize just how blessed you are? Anyway, here's the deal: you can stay here in this life or join me in hell."

"Join you…?"

"In hell, yes. And I'd make sure you'd have a blast there, although no, I don't have queens, sorry. But you would want for nothing. Still, it is up to you to decide."

Anne gasped. "You… you expect me to decide such a thing? How am I to decide on a matter so grand?"

"Well, do as you wish. That's what free will is about, right? Just ask yourself what it is you really want," Lucifer suggested, looking her straight in the eyes. "Tell me, Anne Boleyn, what is it you desire most?"

"I…"

He smiled. "Yes?"

"I… I want to see Elizabeth crowned. I want her accepted as Henry's heir. I don't want his Seymour slut to succeed in giving him a son… and I want my revenge on them. On all of those who wronged me. I want to see Henry weep and beg my forgiveness."

"Ah, well that's more like it. And, truth be told, it is a wish I most certainly can understand. You have my sympathies…" A dark, lustful shadow crept into Lucifer's face as he continued to speak. "… and my support, if you so wish."

Anne couldn't trust her ears. "Your…?"

"Yes, of course. It is what I do, after all, what I'm good at. Punish the wicked, redeem the good. Why not, I ask? People have been referring to you as my bride for such a long time now – what kind of fiancée would I be if I did not give you your heart's desire as a gift?"

He took her hand and placed it on his hip, pulling her closer.

"What do you say, Lady Anne? Would you be willing to be mine, for a while, and allow me to assist you exact divine revenge on those that wronged you?"

Suddenly, Anne's eyes darkened just like his had before, and she smiled.

"I would love to."

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Reviews are appreciated!


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